Always Have and Always Will
by fauxreal
Summary: In the Summer of Arthur's fourteenth year, he attended a Boy Scouts camp in America, where he met his best friend, Alfred. At the end of the Summer, Arthur was sent back to London to live with his father. But the two boys promised to write each other every day until they could meet again. Unfortunately, thing's don't always turn out the way you plan...


It was a Tuesday night at the Bree Louise, a secluded bar in North London. Despite only being Tuesday, people from all different places crowded the pub, chattering loudly as the liquor flowed loosely throughout the room. Arthur Kirkland, twenty-three, single, and bloody fucking _busy_ with work should definitely not be in a place like this. But it was just one of those days where all Arthur wanted was to drink himself stupid. So that's precisely what he would do.

"Good evening to you! What'll you be having?" A too-chirpy waitress asked him as she pulled a small notebook from her back pocket.

"Whatever's strongest will do, please," He pushed aside his menu and ran a hand through his hair. She smirked and shook her head.

"One of those days, huh?" She had a strong Welsh accent. Arthur forced a tight smile.

"I'll see what we've got," She- Arthur silently noticed her name tag read "Brenda"- winked and headed to the kitchen.

Arthur distractedly tapped his fingers against the wooden bar, looking at all the bright lights and focusing on the loud noise and laughter rather than his own thoughts. He absently noticed a song by The Cure playing in the background. Arthur raked a hand through his blond hair and suppressed a heavy sigh. He was quite tired of feeling this way. That's why he enjoyed alcohol so much.

He glanced towards the window to notice it had started drizzling. It's not that Arthur minded cold weather, but day after day of rain and clouds and grey-ness was beginning to get on his nerves. He rather loved London, though. He grew up here after all. But weather like this wasn't meant to be withstood by someone who was alone.

So Arthur had multiple affairs to deal with it. In fact, he heard from a friend of a friend that he was starting to get something that closely resembled a "reputation" for doing so. Arthur promptly decided to not give a shit.

He was snapped away from his own musings when someone slumped into the stool beside him. He was wearing a black leather jacket with a red flannel underneath. He had black rimmed glasses that would have made anyone else look silly- but somehow they brought out the blue in his eyes and the features of his face.

"Evenin'," He said cheerfully, shooting Arthur a glance.

Arthur immediately recognized the accent and internally groaned, _great, just what I need, some bloody American trying to strike up conversation_.

Arthur initially planned to ignore him until he left, only to have a drink clanked in front of his face- which the American bought as the reason Arthur wasn't replying.

"We call this the Irish Car Bomb," The waitress said with a smile before leaving to take the order of some couple.

Arthur grumbled to himself, "… Irish Car Bomb? There's no way this is the bloody, fucking, strongest drink, this is- this is fucking _London_."

The American chuckled deeply to himself- reminding Arthur of his existence.

"By the looks of it, I'd say you're already drunk."

Arthur glared at the other man, "Thanks for the observation. And to whom do I owe this pleasure?"

His smirk grew wider and all Arthur wanted was to smack it off his goddamn face.

"Alfred."

There was something extremely familiar about the name. Arthur didn't care enough about it to think it over. He just scoffed and took a sip of his drink, "Doesn't sound all that American."

"And your name?" Alfred asked, seemingly un-offended by any of Arthurs remarks thus far.

Arthur rolled his eyes and slammed his drink back against the bar.

"Rupert Salisbury."

The smirk remained intact on Alfred's stupid face, "…Is that really the best you could come up with?"

"Why don't you ask my parents? It's not like I named myself," Arthur deadpanned and took another swig of his god-awful Irish drink.

"Right, right. But you know, when I asked for your name I meant your _real_ name. Not something that sounds fresh out of some British-name-generator."

Arthur wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and turned to properly face this _Alfred_.

"It's Arthur. As though that sounds any less as though it originated from some British-name-generator."

Alfred barked a laugh as the waitress returned again, warily glancing at the other man.

"And how is everything? Can I get you something to drink, sir?" She asked politely, pulling out her notepad once again.

"I'll have whatever he's got," Alfred said and gestured towards Arthur with a quick nod of the head. She nodded and collected Arthur's drink for a refill, which Arthur was silently regretting downing so quickly. They were left alone again.

"So, Arthur…"

"So, Alfred?" Arthur mocked in a sing-song voice that was meant to irritate the American. Alfred just grinned.

"What brings you here on a wonderful Tuesday night?"

Arthur was buzzed enough to the point where he decided he might as well humor him.

"The un-refusable desire to get shit-faced. How about yourself?"

Arthur swished his drink around in his cup and Alfred flashed a smile, which, for the first time Arthur noticed, was actually quite nice.

"I had… similar motives, you could say," He pushed a stray clump of dirty blond hair behind his ear and rested his head in the cup of his hand. "So, are you from around here?"

Arthur nodded slightly, a bit taken aback that the American was actually interested. Or at least seemed interested. Arthur was used to his type. Young, could pass as straight if he wanted, hell, _could be _straight for all he knew, and was just messing with him. He clicked his tongue and stared into his glass, "Yes, though I'm from Eastern London originally. I moved here a few years ago to attend college."

"What for?"

"Photography. The campus is a couple minutes from Einfeld."

This seemed to spark Alfred's interest.

"Photography? That's really interesting! What kind of compositions do you like?"

"What is this, twenty questions?" Arthur murmured as the waitress arrived with their drinks. Alfred thanked her and Arthur simply nodded.

"Whatever gets you to talk," Alfred continued once she was gone.

"And why is the American so dead-set on getting me to talk?"

Alfred smirked at Arthurs slurred words.

"Because, at least judging by looks, you're the one person in here who most deserves not to be alone."

Arthur almost spat out his drink. He winced and shot a look at Alfred, who was still just sitting there smiling innocently.

"Bloody- That's a bit too brash a statement for having barely met, don't you think?…" He looked away, fighting down the blush trying to spread its way up his neck.

"Not at all! I don't have to meet someone to know how attractive they are. And plus, we _have_ met, which makes it all more plausible."

"Well, did you ever stop to think that maybe I was here alone by choice?" Arthur watched Alfred curiously as he stirred his drink around in his cup, "Or maybe it's just that the people in here are all avoiding me? Perhaps I'm a serial killer."

"Ha! I know you aren't because you'd be in_ jail_," He stated proudly, still avoiding his drink.

Arthur shook his head, "Maybe I was tried innocent. Maybe they were wrong."

Alfred seemed to think this over for a minute- something that made Arthur smile. And that made Arthur confused. He took another drink.

The American finally spoke up, "I don't believe it. Someone as cool and nice looking as you would never be a serial killer. It's just the natural order of things," He seemed quite pleased with his deduction. Arthur snorted.

"Such a high opinion of me for having just met."

"I'm a good judge of character, always have been. Just by looking at you, I can tell a lot of things." Arthur could tell he was suppressing a smile.

He quirked an eyebrow, "Oh? And what would those things be?"

Alfred shrugged slightly, "I'd say you're pretty confident, but not cocky. You're a creative person so you like your space, but you also like people, which explains why you're here, humoring me. You've moved around a lot in your life, but London is your favorite…" He glanced over to Arthur and caught his stare, which must have been intense considering the way Alfred caught himself. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again, "You like older music. You like listening when people talk," He smirked, "And long walks on the beach, cuddling-"

Arthur snorted and shook his head into his drink.

"Very… Interpretive. I guess."

Alfred smiled and rested his head against his hand, "I was right, though?"

Arthur took a few more sips. His glass was almost empty and the alcohol was settling in. He looked at Alfred who'd been watching him intently.

"Aren't you going to drink that?"

He grinned and finally brought the glass to his lips, took a large gulp, and set it back against the table. He shook his head, "_Holy_ hell that's strong. How are you still forming coherent sentences- you, you're basically done with your second glass!"

"I can handle my liquor, always could," Arthur shrugged and took his final sip, "Besides, how old are you? There's no way you're older than eighteen."

"I'm _nineteen_. So you can take_ that_ to the bank," Alfred said a little too loudly and took another large gulp. Arthur rolled his eyes. He didn't notice when, but a small smile was shaping its way onto his lips.

"Wow, can't believe I made such an awful mistake."

"Me neither. You're a fucking idiot."

That got Arthur to laugh a bit, and he could see Alfred shoot him a look form the corner of his eye. Arthur coughed and turned to play with the sleeve of his dark green hoodie. He felt suddenly anxious. Why was this random kid making him feel so much all of a sudden?

"So, um… How old are you anyway? It's not like you're all that older than I am," Alfred said, his words starting to slur together.

"I'm twenty-three. Nearly four years older than you."

"Pffft, in the grand scheme of things, that's nothin'. _Nothin'_," He repeated with the shake of his head. He took another fairly big gulp of his drink and made a face before dropping it against the counter. He grimaced and rubbed at his cheek. "Sorry… I don't really like Irish drinks all that much…"

Arthur released another small laugh, "Then why did you order it?"

"'Cos you did."

Well.

He was certainly an honest drunk.

Arthur regarded him for a moment before speaking up again, "Say, what are you doing across the pond anyhow? Traveling? I doubt at your age it has to do with work…"

"Stop talkin' to me like I'm so much younger than you. But… I um… Yeah, travel, I guess. I kind of got bored of my home town. I'd lived in the same place for more than seventeen years, so I decided I wanted a bit of a change of scene for a while. So I moved here! I'm trying to find a good school for literature or…something. I don't really know yet."

"Hm. Well, nothing wrong with that. To be truthful, I'd've never pegged you as the 'literature' type."

"Ha. I've been told that a lot. I 'dunno, I thought the glasses made me look literature-y."

"Maybe it has less to do with the glasses and more with your terrible grammar," Arthur suggested, too drunk to hide the fact that he was…. really enjoying himself. For the first time in years.

"I don't need to talk right to write right… Er, that sounded confusing… You know what I mean!" Alfred grumbled, again, too loudly, and finished off his drink in one swig.

"You… really don't handle alcohol that well, do you?"

"No, especially not around people like you. I get all nervous and don't know what to do with my hands so I just drink too much and too fast… ah, did I say that out loud? I don't know… You're pretty. I like you."

Arthur scowled to himself as he felt a blush spreading across his cheeks. He was just drunk. He just wanted to get laid. That's it.

He caught the time on Alfred's watch before blurting, "So, would you like to head back to my place or yours?" There was a slight unsteadiness in his voice that bugged him.

Alfred blinked at him.

"To… to do what?"

Arthur frowned, "What the bloody hell do you think?"

Alfred's face flushed with embarrassment and he looked away. Arthur saw his adams-apple bob in his throat as he picked at his nails nervously, and Arthur suddenly felt a pang of guilt. Maybe he… hadn't wanted sex? But with all the flirting how could Arthur assume otherwise? Especially with what he's been hearing about himself from people he hardly even knew.

"I'm, um… I'm sorry if I assumed wrong-"

"No!" Alfred yelled, earning a couple of confused stares from people sitting around them. He cleared his throat and brought his stare back to Arthur's. "I mean… I mean if you want to," He released a breathy laugh, "I'd really, _really_ be more than fine with that. I just, um... haven't been interested in anyone in a long time, and… I mean, if…" He buried his face in his hands and groaned, "I don't know how to say this right… I just like you, and if you don't mind, I don't want this to just be a one-night stand. I mean, to be honest, that's kind of why I came here tonight, but I didn't think you'd be so cool, and- I'd like your number, if I haven't creeped you out yet. I've been trying to figure out how to get it for- since forever, and I also want to keep talking to you all night, and-"

"Alright, alright, let's just start with the number, then…" Arthur interrupted him, turning his head around so he couldn't see the blush expanding up his neck. He inwardly cursed himself, what was with all the bloody blushing? He felt like some school boy with a crush.

Alfred just smiled broadly and snatched his phone from his pocket, then hurriedly offered it to Arthur. He tiredly accepted, adding himself as a contact to Alfred's phone before letting Alfred do the same on his.

"So what now?" Alfred asked a little too quickly, both hands gripping the front of his barstool.

Arthur briefly glanced at Alfred's new contact in his phone, to which he added a "B)))" at the end of, and couldn't hold in a snort. He rubbed at his forehead, "Um… I guess we could just go back to my place and… Not just start having sex? We could have tea…?"

The American laughed a bit before pulling some cash out of his pocket- to pay for both their drinks.

"That's the only thing you can come up with to do with someone other than have sex?"

Arthur regarded him, "I have a cat."

Alfred slowly turned around, pulling the most dramatic face Arthur had ever seen. He laughed and ran a hand through his hair- noticing the way Alfred's face slipped slightly to watch.

"Well I don't know! I'm used to… having sex all the time I suppose," Arthur said, voice laced with imitative cockiness, "Also, you didn't have to pay for both…"

Alfred waved a hand nonchalantly, "It's fine, don't even worry about it. And I'm sure about that, to be honest. You're kind of… extremely attractive. For lack of a better word." Arthur almost sputtered as they began pulling on their coats and heading towards the exit.

"How can you say something like that without feeling embarrassed?" He grumbled quietly. The rain had just barely stopped, and the crisp air wrapped around Arthur like a blanket as soon as they stepped outside. He shivered and wrapped his arms around himself. "My flat is just a block away. We can walk, unless you're too cold, we can try and hail a taxi, but…" It was quite late, in fact, it was probably morning now. Alfred smiled and shoved his hands into his pockets.

"I'm fine with walking."

So they walked.

And how they went from being total strangers to being able to talk about the most random of topics without a lull in the conversation the entirety of the walk home, Arthur had no idea. But something about Alfred was… familiar. In fact, it felt like Arthur had known him somehow his whole life. They just got along so _well_, they could talk about anything to each other without it being boring. And his _laugh_. His laugh was loud and happy and youthful and _contagious_, and Arthur found himself laughing so hard he couldn't breath as he jumbled with the keys to his flat.

"Hm. You sure this is your house?"

"First of all, it's a flat, get your British terminology right," Alfred laughed again, "And second, yes it's _mine_. Why would I take you to someone else's house?"

Alfred shrugged, "How would I know? I mean it's taking you, like, a whole minute to open the door. I am American you know, and I get grumpy when I have to wait for things."

Arthur rolled his eyes as he finally got the key to work, swinging the door open and holding it for Alfred.

"Wow, this is… really nice," Alfred commented and started to kick off his shoes and tug at his coat. Arthur took it from him, his fingers accidentally brushing against Alfred's shoulder blades.

Arthur shrugged, "It's alright. I let my younger brother help me with decorating, and he's not exactly… skilled in that department. Also, he's twelve. So. Some things are still oddly placed, if you're wondering why. Would you like anything to drink?"

Alfred smiled warmly, "Can't have me getting too sober, can you? Beer, if you have any would be great."

Arthur ignored the remark and excused himself from the living room as Alfred fell against the couch. He went to the fridge and skimmed through the drinks he had to offer, and ended up picking two bottles of some German brand. He uncapped them against the counter with ease and let out a shaky breath. He wasn't… nervous, per say, just… didn't really know what to expect? Usually, when there was an attractive man in his apartment at this hour, they would be, well, fucking by now, to put it bluntly. And Alfred was… Hell, Alfred was one of the most attractive men Arthur had ever _seen_, let alone slept with. And he was_ alone_ with him. In his_ flat_. Where they were_ alone_. _Together_. And there was an extremely inviting bed in the room just across from them. Arthur started when he caught his hands shaking, realizing beer was dripping onto his floor. He cursed lightly and slammed his eyes shut. _Get it together, Kirkland_.

He forced himself back in the living room, trying not to look as though he'd just been fighting off arousal simply at the thought of being in bed with Alfred.

"This is the only beer I have, I apologize if you don't like it," Arthur said and took a seat next to Alfred, who took the drink gratefully and shook his head.

"No, this is fine. Thank you."

They drank in silence for a few minutes, before Arthur noticed Alfred staring at him with a nervous grin. He laughed and smoothed a piece of his hair behind his ear.

"So," Arthur started.

"So," Alfred said, his smile growing larger.

"We're talking."

"We are."

Arthur pinched his lips together and nodded slowly, staring at his fireplace rather than whatever Alfred must have looked like. He heard him chuckle a bit exasperatedly, "Shit, I'm sorry if you think this was a stupid idea-"

"No, no I don't. I'm sorry if you feel awkward, I just… find it a bit funny that I'm bringing home a young, attractive guy who clearly fancies men- to… talk. At-" He glanced at the clock hanging above the wall opposite to them, "Two o-clock in the morning." He could hardly finish over Alfred's giggles.

He composed himself and a slow, toothy grin spread across his face, "You think I'm attractive?"

Arthur shot him an incredulous look then shook his head. He took a sip of his drink.

"You know you're attractive."

Alfred looked away, biting at his lip in a way Arthur could only label as adorable.

"I had my suspicions. But compared to you, I know I'm not much."

Arthur stared at him, "How am I supposed to keep from making a move with all that flirting?"

Alfred glanced at him and moved his head as though he was going to look away, but his eyes caught Arthur's stare. Alfred involuntarily licked at his bottom lip, Arthur's eyes darting down to it and up again. His heart thudded loudly in his ears.

Alfred swallowed, "Maybe I want you to…"

He ran his tongue along the underside of his upper lip and Arthur stared, having to use all of his willpower not to pounce on him right there.

"Don't… say things like that unless you intend to uphold them."

They had a bit of an unintentional staring competition, except at each other's mouths. Arthur finally broke the silence, " You were right, by the way. What you said about me."

"….That you're attractive?" Alfred asked, still staring at his mouth and clearly too out of it to the point where Arthur was sure if he asked him to repeat what he just said, he wouldn't be able to.

He smirked, "About long walks on the beach."

Alfred blinked and they locked eyes, "Oh," His eyes softened, "Told you I'm perceptive."

"Mm," Arthur nodded slowly, curious as to what Alfred would do next. He wanted it. They both did. It was almost humorous how much so. And just from watching Alfred's face, Arthur could tell the exact moment when he realized it was up to him to make the next move.

"I, uh…" Alfred swallowed, "You know what I said about… Not wanting this to just be a one-night stand?"

Arthur propped an eyebrow and nodded, his lips pressing together in an attempt to cover another smirk.

Alfred fidgeted, "Well, I mean I still… I still mean that, I really like you, you know? But I…"

"But you…" Now it was Arthur who was fidgeting.

"…I want you."

And that was literally _all_ Arthur needed to move forwards, Alfred cautiously following his lead before a hand pressed him back up against the soft pillows of the couch. Alfred chuckled excitedly, his voice already a notch deeper.

Arthur's knees went on either sides of Alfred's legs, and with one hand on his cheek and the other tangling itself into his hair, Arthur kissed him. Softly, at first. Then Alfred snuck a hand up the back of his shirt, and Arthur couldn't _think_ about this anymore, fuck. He shoved his tongue into his mouth, and it was warm and wet and tinted with alcohol. Their teeth clanked together as Arthur lifted himself upwards to suck at his upper lip, their eyes catching for a brief second in a way that sent a jolt of arousal straight to Arthur's groin. Tongues tangled together and hands raked under each other's shirts and over heated skin. And then Alfred let out this _moan_, and Arthur had to mentally take a step back before he lost it.

"I take it- that this means you want me too?" Alfred asked in-between kisses, his voice low and cracked. Arthur could only groan and nod an affirmative because, Alfred, silly Alfred could even be considering that that wasn't the case. His mouth traveled down Alfred's jaw to suck on his pulse. It was all fast and heated and too fucking good to be real, but still not close enough, and Alfred must have gotten the idea because he suddenly started ripping Arthur's shirt off his back in a frenzy.

Arthur grumbled something he didn't even understand before leaning back to yank the blasted thing over his head. He quickly reattached his mouth to Alfred's throat, sucking and biting on the skin as his hands traveled their way up Alfred's chest, skimming over a clothed nipple. Alfred shivered hard and gasped out Arthur's name. Their mouths met again, and after several minutes of greedy sucking and biting and licking, Arthur managed to pull himself out of Alfred's strong grasp.

In a daze, Alfred frowned and his eyes snapped open. His pupils were blown and his lips were red and swollen and his hair was sticking out in every which way, and Arthur had to use every bit of his self-control to hold back.

"Bedroom," Arthur grunted, his voice so low he almost didn't recognize it as his own.

"Kay," Alfred nodded, and, before Arthur could move away, placed a line of wet kisses down his neck and onto the curve of his collar-bone. When he pulled back a drop of saliva fell from his lips that he wiped with the back of his hand, and Arthur really shouldn't have found it such a turn on. He blinked himself out of it and, quite literally, tore himself out of Alfred's hold to pull them both off of the couch. It was hard with Alfred's hands grabbing at his ass and crotch every chance he got, but they made it to the bedroom, where they lasted almost two seconds before tangling in each other's arms again on top of the mattress. Alfred held himself above Arthur with his forearms, rubbing his crotch against the other man's thigh as they kissed. Arthur's breathing hitched when Alfred snaked a hand between their bodies to squeeze at the bulge in his jeans, and, God, the American really had a way of distracting him. He tried to laugh but it came out dry and sultry against Alfred's mouth, "Mm- hang on a second…"

Alfred opened his mouth to protest but all that came out was a frustrated mewl, and Arthur breathed a laugh and kissed his temple before lifting himself out of bed. Alfred watched him curiously before he noticed he was heading towards the bathroom, then nodded absently in understanding before falling back against the bed.

Arthur let out an unsteady breath once the bathroom door shut behind him. He didn't like admitting it, but he was starting to feel a bit nervous. He really liked Alfred. And, like Alfred had even said earlier, he didn't want this to just end up being some one-night stand. He shook his head and yanked at the bottom drawer in search of the box of condoms he always had in stock. He rubbed at his forehead once he realized he didn't really know who'd be doing what yet, which was a first in a while. He generally preferred to be on top, but… The thought of being fucked by Alfred really didn't sound too terrible at the moment. Arthur fished out the bottle of lube before kicking the drawer shut with his foot.

He gave himself a once-over in the mirror before returning to the bedroom, fully noticing how ravished and ridiculously hard he was under his (when had they become unbuttoned…?) jeans.

Arthur came into the bedroom again to find Alfred wriggling out of his jeans, a few wisps of his hair sticking to the top of his neck in sweat.

He looked so, so good like this, and Arthur had to take a moment to regain his composure and ran a hand over his face. He climbed onto the bed, pushing one knee in-between Alfred's spread apart legs to keep him in place. He leaned backwards to prepare a condom and uncap the lube. He noticed Alfred had gone a bit stiff.

"How do you want it?" Arthur asked, sounding way more calm than he actually felt. He loosely stroked down Alfred's thigh with his free hand.

"Um… I'm fine with whatever I guess, so if you want to, you know…"

Arthur smirked, "You just want me to do all the work."

Then Alfred tried to smile, but ended up grimacing nervously.

"…You okay?" Arthur asked as he leaned back and pushed the younger man's legs apart, hooking his arms under his thighs and pulling Alfred into place. He was lathering his fingers in lube when he caught Alfred's expression, and he'd gone… rather pale.

"Hey," Arthur said, seemingly startling Alfred. He blinked and met his gaze, "You don't seem as sure of yourself. You've…. You _have_ done this before, haven't you?"

The pregnant pause that followed pretty much answered the question for him.

Arthur growled, "_Alfred_-"

"I've- I've done some things, okay? I just haven't… I haven't done_ it _yet but-"

"Having sex and fooling around with someone are two completely different things!" Arthur wanted to burry his head in his hands out of irritation, but remembering his fingers were covered in the lube he was just about to take Alfred's virginity with, he let his head fall against the mattress instead. He sighed deeply, "Alfred, I can't just-"

"No, don't say that!" Alfred snatched at Arthur's arm, "Don't just… say that. I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, but I want this. I really want this, so don't worry about that."

Arthur smiled up at him tiredly, "That could just be the alcohol talking, you know."

"It isn't," Alfred said, his mouth twisted into a stubborn frown.

There were a few moments of silence other than the sound of Arthur mindlessly running his fingers over Alfred's thigh. After a while he hummed and smirked a bit, "So you're a virgin?"

Alfred reddened and looked away, mumbling something under his breath. Arthur bit his lip to suppress a chuckle, and pushed himself upwards so he was leaning over Alfred from in-between his legs.

Arthur shrugged a bit, "I'm certainly not opposed to doing this. You aren't my first virgin," He tried not to smirk at the reaction that got out of the younger man, "I just want to make sure you feel the same way…" The way Alfred nodded eagerly and shifted, forcing their hips to align, was a good enough answer for Arthur. He continued warily, "It could potentially hurt, I'm sure you've already thought of that, but if we do this right, it shouldn't. I just.. I need you to trust me, alright?"

Alfred swallowed visibly and nodded, "'Course I trust you."

Arthur let out a small sigh and shook his head lightly. So naive…

He reached down to kiss the juncture between Alfred's shoulder blade and collar bone, and worked his way down until he met his erect nipple. Alfred cursed and trailed his nails down his back, doing so in a way Arthur _knew_ would leave marks, which made his cock twitch in his jeans.

He licked and sucked at his nipple, biting lightly and then licking around in a circle, his other hand moving upwards to give attention to the other. Alfred was growing hard again against Arthur's stomach, and Arthur gave one final suck before pushing Alfred upwards on the bed and reapplying lube to his fingers quickly. He noticed how Alfred was watching him, and, to distract him, Arthur pulled his throbbing cock out of his underwear and _sucked_. Alfred let out a cross between a gasp and a curse, his head falling against Arthur's pillow. His hands found their way into Arthurs hair, encouraging him. Arthur held him down by the thighs and ran his tongue along the sides of his cock, before taking it in all the way, all the while keeping his eyes on Alfred's as he watched himself disappear into Arthur's mouth. Alfred moaned and threw an arm over his eyes, his mouth falling open in a silent cry. Arthur absently reached up with his free hand to pull the other's arm away; to see Alfred's face, which was currently beet red and covered in a light layer of sweat. Arthur swirled his tongue along the head and gave him a few more sucks before inserting one finger into Alfred, who was incredibly_ tight_. Alfred gasped slightly and leaned up on his forearms.

"How do you feel?" Arthur asked, keeping his eyes on his finger going in and out of Alfred.

It took a moment for the other boy to even register what he'd been asked before moaning out his answer, which would be_ really fucking good_.

Arthur chuckled darkly and added another finger, giving Alfred's cock another suck. He could taste the other's pre-cum on his tongue and it sent a wave of heat straight to his groin. He hurriedly added a third finger, and Alfred let out this_ moan_ that forced all of Arthur's attention on the younger man. His jaw went slack when he noticed how good he looked; beads of sweat gathering on his brow, hands tangling in his white sheets as his back arched off of the bed. Even his glasses were somehow turning Arthur on, and if he never had a glasses kink he sure as hell had one now. He thrusted his fingers a couple more times and found a spot that had Alfred cursing especially loud, and Arthur lost it. He snatched a condom from his side table and ripped it open with his teeth, Alfred's eyes going wide as he nodded in anticipation. Just as he was about to slip it on, Alfred smacked his hand away and grabbed it from him.

"Let me," He growled before rolling it onto Arthur's erection, giving it a few pumps before he leaned down and licked the head, locking eyes with Arthur before he pulled away, a slight smirk playing on his lips- and that was just enough to push Arthur off of the fucking _edge_. He gripped Alfred by the shoulders and spun him around before shoving him into the mattress, his glasses just about falling off as a wicked smile spread across his face. He teasingly slid his cock between Alfred's cheeks, the younger boy impatiently pushing back on him.

"Come on Arthur just _fuck _me already, shit!" Alfred yelled, and Arthur finally plunged himself into the other boy in one swift motion, and he was so hot and so tight that Arthur swore he saw stars. Alfred groaned so loud that Arthur was sure the entire building must have heard before gripping the pillow with both hands. Arthur bucked into him in quick, deep thrusts, Alfred's hips eventually snapping upwards to match his rhythm. Alfred gasped something unintelligible, clawing at the sheets as he heard Arthur's labored breathing behind him. It was so good, too good, Arthur knew he wouldn't last much longer.

"God, me neither," Alfred groaned into the pillow, and Arthur realized he must have said that out loud. He gripped the younger boy by the hips and pushed him forwards until he was on his knees, taking it on all fours and gripping the top of the headboard, knuckles going white. Arthur leaned forwards, whispering all the erotic things he could think of just to get him off, and he knew it was working by the way he started whimpering a string of curses followed by his name. Arthur started thrusting faster, and it was sloppy and hard and deep and if Alfred kept moaning the way he was Arthur swore his balls would explode.

"_Fuck_," Alfred nearly screamed as he was pushed over the edge, Arthur following suit hardly a second later. They both fell slack against the bed in sync, panting hard.

"Holy shit," Arthur croaked out once he was sure his lungs weren't going to give out. Alfred laughed exasperatedly, rubbing a hand over his face.

"I thought first times were supposed to be…. not like that," Alfred drawled, voice hoarse.

Arthur chuckled breathlessly and shook his head into Alfred's shoulder.

"It might've been your first time, but not mine. Although I'm having a hard time believing you've never fucked before."

Alfred turned his head slightly, "Really? I was good?"

"_Really_ fucking good," And it was almost embarrassing for Arthur to admit, but it might have been… some of the best sex he'd ever had.

They lay there panting for about five minutes until Arthur felt Alfred pass out beneath him, his chest rising and falling slowly against his stomach. He smiled softly and was about to take Alfred's lead when he noticed a small yet noticeable scar on the other boy's shoulder. Something about it was so familiar that it was irritating. He bit his lip and furrowed his brow, trying to remember where on Earth he'd seen that scar before, when it suddenly hit him.

Alfred.

He shot up out of bed, causing the younger man to jolt awake.

"What is it?"

"You're Alfred," Arthur interrupted, and his hands were shaking.

"Yeah…?" He mumbled sleepily, and Arthur shook his head and scooted back towards the edge of the bed. How could he have not noticed? Alfred Jones. The boy who changed him forever and then disappeared. And he just _slept_ with him without even realizing.

He kept opening his mouth to say something, anything, but he just couldn't. There was so much to say, to ask, to yell.

"That scar," Arthur finally forced out, "That scar on your shoulder, you…."

And then Alfred froze. He remembered. His mouth fell open and his stare locked with Arthur's.

"Arthur... Kirkland?"

Arthur felt his mouth go dry when Alfred did the most absurd, idiotic thing Arthur could have ever imagined; he actually started _laughing_. Slowly at first, then so loud and obnoxious Arthur wanted to hit him just to make it stop.

"Why didn't you write to me?" Arthur hated it whenever his voice trembled.

"What-"

"_Why_ didn't you write?" He shouted and Alfred's laughter stopped.

He frowned, "Of course I wrote to you!"

Arthur opened his mouth to retaliate, then halted.

"I didn't get a single letter," He said, sounding less menacing like he'd hoped and more fragile. He hated it. He hated Alfred.

"Get out of here," He said, voice cracking as he started shoving him off the bed.

"What, no- Would you just_ listen_?"

Arthur buried his face in his hands, he wouldn't let Alfred see him cry.

"…Arthur-" He attempted to put a hand on Arthur's back when he smacked it away.

"I said get out," And now it was obvious he was crying. Arthur hated this. This was so embarrassing and stupid and why, _why_ did he have to run into Alfred of all the billions of people in the world? And why did he have to have sex with him of all things?

"No, I'm not fucking going anywhere! And you're going to listen to me, alright?" Alfred said, voice laced with anger. Arthur didn't move, keeping his face buried in his hands.

Arthur heard him readjust himself and take in a deep breath.

"I did write to you. I must have sent you hundreds of letters. I told you everything that happened to me in every day of my life for months. And I never got one letter back from you! If anyone should be angry, it's me!"

Arthur stilled, his words sinking in. Alfred… Alfred _had_ written to him?

"But I never got any letters… I waited… I waited and they never came," He sounded so pathetic, even to himself, but he couldn't help it. All those years of being alone still haunted him even now. "Maybe you… Maybe you had the wrong address-"

"1209 East Dulwich Road, London, England, United Kingdom," Alfred interrupted eyes on the wall opposite of them.

He was right.

Which means Alfred _had_ written to him. So much that the address he'd lived in as a child and into his early teens were still imprinted onto Alfred's memory.

"Then why…?" Arthur asked in a small voice, lifting his head from his hands.

Alfred made a dismissive motion with his hand as if to say _how the hell should I know_?

Arthur bit his lip and raked his hands through his hair. It didn't make any sense. He'd memorized his address, his _correct _address, by heart. Even if one letter got lost in the post, eventually some of them would have made it through? Unless…

Shit.

"Alfred, come with me," Arthur said and jumped out of bed, pulling his pants back on in a fury.

"…Where are we going?"

He tossed Alfred his t-shirt before tugging his own over his head.

"I think I know where they are. And if I'm right about it, I'm going to fucking kill my father."

They hurried down the stairs and out of the apartment building, and Arthur led Alfred to his black Vauxhall Insigni. Arthur knew he shouldn't be driving. He wasn't all the way sober yet, and he was so tired he could probably fall asleep standing up, but he was furious. He was so, so furious, and the inevitable truth he'd been kept from for so long was starting to unfold itself in his head.

His own father had kept him from Alfred.

* * *

Hello everyone! I hope you enjoy this so far. I started writing this ages ago and just got to finishing it. Please review if you like this, it takes like 5 seconds and you don't even have to say anything but "hell yea I like this" and it will inspire me. So please do that.

Back story behind all of this weird scar/ letter hullabaloo will be explained in the next chapters. Revieeeew.

P.S. I made Arthur's college and address up. The streets all exist but his house/the college doesn't. Well, maybe the college does, but not that I'm aware of? Who knows/cares.

P.S.S. Song playing at the bar was "The Love Cats" by The Cure.


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